


Building Blocks of a Family

by Peanut_Butter_Wizard



Series: Stanmily au [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, and his army of kids, dad!stan, who are all mostly legally adopted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_Butter_Wizard/pseuds/Peanut_Butter_Wizard
Summary: Stan Pines always wanted to be a father, but when he ends up on the streets, then ends up impersonationg his brother for years, he's sure that that will never happen.  Well, never say never Stan...





	1. Dipper and Mabel

Stan Pines had always believed that he would have kids one day.  He had always thought that, some day, he would settle down with a wife, raise a munchkin or two, maybe three, after he and Ford had struck it rich treasure hunting or course.  Stan knew that he was the ‘wild’ twin, and that most people weren’t expecting something so…domestic for him, but honestly, Stan thought it sounded nice.  For all his talk of babes, there was always something appealing about finding ‘The One’, and just being happy together.

He had never expected that something like _this_ would happen.  Stan had been ecstatic to hear that his nephew and his wife were expecting.  Barely nineteen and still in college, Stan felt a surge of protective worry thinking about them, barely older than babies themselves, raising a child and trying to make it through college as well as everything life could throw at them?  As Stan drove to California, he pushed the thoughts down.  _They’ll be fine.  They’ve got each other, and their parents to help ‘em out.  Everything is gonna be alright for those kids._

But of course, things are never that easy.  Instead of the joyful occasion Stan had expected, there was heartbreak in the hospital that night.  While two beautiful babies napped in the nursery, exhausted by their own birth, a young man, barely nineteen, wept.  His children were strong, but his wife was gone from this world.  His father sat stoic, trying to comfort his only child through a pain that was all too familiar to him, still sharp though faded with time.  That was how Stan found them.  And that was when Stan’s heart, which he thought was hardened into stone, started to crack.

His nephew didn’t know what to do.  He knew he couldn’t raise a child on his own in college, let alone two.  His mom was gone and his dad had been living in an old folks home since her death.  His wife had grown up in foster care; no parents were there for her.  And her stories from her childhood made it impossible for the nineteen year old father and widower to leave his children to the system.  He was stuck.

Until Stan opened his mouth.  In a whirl it seemed, he was back in Gravity Falls.  Small toys littered the floor, a crib was set up in the corner of his room, and he was currently trying to soothe two fussy infants late into the night.  Or, rather, one fussy infant, and one sleeping infant.  Stan had learned early on that if he picked up one baby, he had to pick up the other, or else both children would scream until they were reunited.  These last few months had given Stan an appreciation for his mother he never thought he would have had.

Stan was tired.  His back and arms were sore from bouncing the two babies for over two hours.  Drool was soaked into his undershirt and chest hair and shoulder hair.  His hearing aid was down low, but not low enough that he couldn’t hear Mason softly whimpering.  The soles of his feet were sore from tripping over wooden blocks in the dark on his way up from the basement.  And part of his soul ached, telling him he should be downstairs, working on the Portal, bringing his own twin home. 

And yet, despite his protesting body, and the hole that had been aching inside of him for nigh on thirty years, he felt more content than he had in a long time.  He held the two small kids, _his_ kids, closer to him, Mason finally starting to calm down and snuggle closer into his chest, yawning as his eyes drifted close.  Stan smiled softly, and, instead of setting the kids back in their crib, he lies down on his own bed, gently nesting the kids in pillows and blankets and curling himself around them.

It may not have been how he had imagined it, all those years ago.  But it was good.  And it was his.  And that was enough.


	2. Wendy

“-and don’t forget to tell your friends about us here at the Mystery Shack!”  Stan’s voice boomed in the gift shop as he waved at the last crowd of the day from the front door.  “And remember, we put the Fun in-”

“No wefuns!”  The two toddlers he was carrying chorused.  Mabel and Mason had been getting antsy during the last tour.  They started whining and shaking the baby gate as Stan lead the tour by, so he had scooped them up and brought them along.  He gave the newest Mystery Shack resident, little Wendy, a glance to see if she had wanted out too, but she just glared at him over the blocks she was playing with, so Stan left her behind the baby gate and the “Worlds Cutest Kids!” attraction sign.

“Mr. Pines!”  A squeaky voice called out behind him.  Stan turned to see Soos, his new handy man, walking over in his too-large Mystery Shack t-shirt.  When Stan had ‘hired’ Soos about three days ago, he hadn’t really expected to see the kid again.  But when he showed up bright and early one morning, well, Stan wasn’t one to turn down free labor.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Lock up while I get food for the munchkins, would ya?  Then bring Wendy into the dining room and sweep up the museum and gift shop.” 

“Yes sir Mr. Pine’s sir!”  Soos said enthusiastically.  Mason had his hand in his mouth and was sucking on his fingers, and Mable started waving and babbling at Soos when he darted around Stan and the kids to lock the door.  He stopped for a moment to wave back, delighting Mabel, then turned his attention back to locking up.

In the kitchen, Stan settled into a familiar routine.  Buckle the kids into their seats, get the applesauce out, warm up the peas, double check Mason’s seat buckle (he was a little escape artist, and he always busted his sister out too), warm the cooked carrots, fill the Sippy cups, juice for Mason and chocolate milk for Mabel, triple check Mason’s seat buckle, and make sure the baby spoons were clean before sitting down to start the delicate and complicated dance that was feeding two two-year-olds at once.

“Um, Mr. Pines?”  Soos said from the doorway into the kitchen.  Stan looked back to see him nervously fiddling with his fingers.

“What’s up gumdrop?  Break something?  And where’s Wendy?”  Stan said, turning back to the toddlers.

“Well, y’see, I went to go get her dood, but when I checked the play-traction, well, I couldn’t find her.”  Soos’s voice quivered a little at the end, and when Stan looked back at him again, the boy looked like he was about to cry.

Stan gave a small sigh, then stood “Hey, simmer down now.  ‘S not yer fault.”  Stan tried to calm the boy down.  He really didn’t want to have to deal with a crying twelve year old employee on top of a missing five year old and a pair of hungry two year olds.  “Wendy’s a slippery little kid, gets away from me all the time.  Yer not in trouble or anything.  Ah,” Stan, struck by an idea, stood up from the table “here, you feed the twins, I’ll go find Wendy.”

Soos looked up at Stan with an awestruck expression for a moment.  It was a little unnerving to Stan, but it didn’t last long.  “You got it Mr. Pines!”  Soos said, bounding over to the table.

“Okay, just a few quick things.”  Stan says, handing the spoons to Soos, “Mason won’t eat the carrots, so he has to eat more peas.  Mabel likes to mix the carrots and the applesauce, disgusting, I know, but she likes it.  She’ll also paint her face with her food and throw it everywhere, so watch that.  Masons won’t give ya much trouble.  And whatever ya do, _do not_ let either one of them hold the spoons, or they’ll try ta feed you.  Got it, gumdrop?”

“Yeah dood. I got this.” Soos said, then turned to the twins “Aww, lookit you two little doods!”  He cooed.  Mabel clapped her hands and babbled a string of nonsense words, smiling widely at Soos.  Mason finally stopped sucking on his fingers, and gave a thoughtful scowl while pointing at Soos with a pudgy finger.

“Soo.”  Mason said.  Then, he broke into a large grin, pleased with himself.  “Soo, soo, soo!”  He started chanting, and soon Mabel started doing it too. 

“Yeah dawgs, that’s me!”  Soos cheered, smiling as widely as the twins.

 _Yeah, they’ll be fine._ Stan thought before leaving the kitchen.  Soos was a great kid really.  Stan was glad he had showed up at the Shack.  _Now, if I was a mischievous red head preschooler, where would I be?_

He checked the museum first, looking behind all of the attractions, and paying special attention to the places he’s found her hiding before.  It had been a month since the…Incident that had lead to Wendy living at the Shack, and only two weeks since Stan had officially adopted her.  Stan wasn’t quite sure that she understood fully what the words ‘your parents have died’ meant, but it had sunk in soon that they weren’t coming back any time soon.  The lively girl had become withdrawn and quiet, barely speaking to anyone.  She would open up to the twins more than anyone else, but that still wasn’t saying much.  Wendy had taken to disappearing when Stan wasn’t looking, messing with an attraction, then hiding somewhere, a cycle that was starting to really grate on Stan’s nerves.  If he had to restitch that dumb Fiji mermaid one more time…

A tremendous _CRASH_ sounded in the gift shop, making Stan jump.  Soos cries out from the kitchen “I didn’t do it!” as the twins squeal loudly.  Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses.  He could feel his grey hairs multiplying as he stalked to the gift shop.

Wendy was surrounded by shattered snow globes, a shelf pulled off the wall behind her, and water soaking into her socks.  And to top it all off, Wendy was standing with her feet planted and her arms crossed, a defiant glare on her face.  _This was no accident._

“All right young lady, that is _it!”_  Stan growled.  He marched over, glass crunching under his shoes as he scooped Wendy up and away from the sharp shards.  “I’m through with this, you’re gonna be the one who’s cleaning this up.” 

Wendy glared at Stan as he set her down.  As soon as she was standing on her own two feet again, she kicked Stan in the shin, hard.  He bit back a curse and jumped on one foot, clutching his leg. 

“No!” Wendy shrieked, “No, _no, NO!_ ” Her face reddened and she stomped her feet with each word, her socks squishing on the wood floor. 

“ _No_ , what?”  Stan hollered over her, putting his throbbing leg down.  _That’s gonna bruise._  “No cleaning up?  Cause too bad, I’m moving the glass and then you’re mopping up missy.”

“ _NO,_ I’m _NOT!_  You _can’t_ tell me what to _do!  YOU’RE NOT MY DAD!”_ Wendy screamed, her voice reaching pitches only dogs could hear.  Stan stood, stunned by the outburst, and only watched as Wendy turned and ran, powering up the stairs as fast as she could, up to the attic and away from Stan.

Stan took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.  _Great.  Just great.  What do I do now?_ Some old doubts from his first few weeks raising Dipper and Mabel reared their ugly heads.  Who did Stan think he was anyway, trying to raise three kids by himself?  He was the first person to point out how under qualified he was to even be _around_ kids, let alone raise three that weren’t even his.  At least with Dipper and Mabel he was related to them, albeit in a bit of a roundabout way.  Wendy was just a neighbor kid, a little girl he babysat on occasion.  She came to be his ward on _accident._

 _What are you doing Stan?  Go after the kid before she does something else dangerous!_ The rational part of Stan, the part that sounded like Ford, yelled at him in his head.  Stan took a step in the direction Wendy had run, and then he remembered the mess of broken glass behind him and the three other children in the house that could walk through it.  Stan grabbed some caution cones out of a closet to section off the area, then he quickly gathered up all the big pieces, throwing them in the trash. 

Stan yelped, biting back a curse as one of the last pieces sliced into his palm.  He threw the last few pieces into the garbage with more force than necessary.  Stan looked at the cut as he darted into the bathroom to get the first aid kit.  It was long, but shallow.  Stan was able to quickly, if awkwardly, bandage it.  He wadded the extra gauze in his pocket, planning on cleaning up the first aid kit later. 

Now, to find Wendy.  She was probably hiding in the attic bedroom, where all of her things were.  Stan opened the door with trepidation, expecting to be attacked again.  Nothing happened.  He pushed the door wide open and flipped on the light.  He moved to look under the bed, but stopped when something caught his eye.  The window was open.  _Oh no._

Stan threw himself to the window, leaning out far and not really noticing the height.  “Wendy?!”  His voice cracked as he called out, peering down to the dark ground below.  “Kid, where’d ya go?”  Stan’s heart slowed a little when he didn’t see a small body on the ground below, the area illuminated by light coming from the Shack, but not by much.  “Ah, whaddo I do? Where did she-no I gotta, I gotta go after her, but where did she-”  Stan pulled himself back into the room and stumbled back into a wall.  He was panicking.  “Gah, I knew this would happen.  Who am I kidding?  Why did I think I could take care’a these kids without screwing it up?”  Stan knew, distantly, that he should do something, anything but stay in that room freaking out, but he couldn’t.  He didn’t know what to do, so he sank to the ground, burying his head in his hands and bumping the hamper on his way down.

The hamper gave a yelp.  Stan started, then turned towards it.  He pulled the top layer of clothes off the apparently empty hamper, revealing a head of red hair.  “Wendy!”  Stan reached into the basket, ignoring the stinging in his hand, and plucked her out of the laundry, pulling her into his lap  “Do you have any idea how much you just scared me, young lady?”  He let out a sigh, more of a huff of air than anything, and leaned back, banging his head against the wall and knocking his fez off. The spike of adrenaline he had felt at seeing the open window faded, leaving him feeling more tired than the relatively quiet day should have left him. 

“Are you…crying?” Wendy’s voice was quiet; the quietest Stan had ever heard her.  When he looked down at her, he saw her looking up at him, her head cocked to the side, with a confused look on her face.  With a start, Stan noticed the wetness prickling at the corners of his eyes.  _Just from shock or adrenaline or something._

“No, I’m not crying.”  The response was immediate. “My eyes are just waterin’ from the light.  Thought you had gone out the window or something, stuck my head out.  It was dark out there.”  Despite knowing that Wendy was fine, Stan still couldn’t help but give her a once-over.  “Hey, what did you do to yer hand sweetie?”  Stan caught the way she had one hand cupped around the other.  Gently, he tugged on her fingers, bringing her hand towards him.  A small cut was bleeding near the base of her thumb.

“It’s nothin’” Wendy muttered, trying to pull her hand away.  “Just a little cut.”

Stan pulled the gauze out of his pocket, feeling grateful that he hadn’t put it away.  “Well, little or not, you don’t want to get blood everywhere, do ya?”  Stan said, his voice as soft and quiet as he can make it.  He was too relieved that Wendy was alright to really be mad at her.  Stan gently wrapped the tiny cut, being much more careful than he had been with his own injury.

“Whaddid you do to your hand?”  Wendy asked as Stan finished bandaging her hand.

Stan pocketed the remaining gauze.  “Cut myself on the glass downstairs.  Ya really made a mess, ya know that kid?”

Wendy looked down at her hands.  “Oh.  Sorry.”  Her small face twisted into an ashamed grimace.

Stan felt a twist of guilt.  He hadn’t tried to upset her.  Stan tried to backtrack. “Heh, it’s not yer fault.  I coulda’ been more careful.”  More words hung on the tip of Stan’s tongue, but he bit them back.  He really didn’t want to upset Wendy more than he already had.

The two of them sat on the floor in silence.  Stan decided that the fact that Wendy hadn’t jumped out of his lap and ran yet as a sign that he could try and say more.  “Hey, Wendy,” Stan started.  He rubbed the back of his neck “I know that this has all been really hard for you.  Havin’ ta adjust ta all of this-” he waved an arm, gesturing at the Shack around them “and ta me and the twins.  And, I know that ya must miss yer parents somethin’ awful.”  Wendy curled up into a ball in Stan’s lap, hugging her knees and hiding her face.  But she hadn’t left yet, so Stan kept pushing his luck.  “I, um, I have someone that I miss a whole lot too.”  Wendy looked up at Stan with watery green eyes, and Stan’s throat tightened _‘Why did I say that?’_  “But, y’see, the thing is, well-” Stan backtracked frantically, hoping Wendy didn’t try to ask him any questions.  “I’m not your Dad.  I know that.  And I’m sorry if I made ya feel like I was trying ta replace him, or your Mom.  Cause, ya don’t, ya don’t replace family, ya know?”  Stan kept his eyes on the ceiling, looking anywhere but at Wendy.  “So, yeah, I’m just tellin’ ya that I’m sorry, kid.  For everything.”

Two small arms wrapped around Stan’s neck, and Wendy’s hot breath tickled Stan’s ear.  Stan hesitated for a moment before hugging her back.  Quietly but growing in volume, Wendy started to sob into Stan’s neck.  He grimaced slightly at the slimy feel of her tears and more than likely snot rubbing into his skin and soaking his shirt and jacket collar, but Stan held the crying girl close to him.

Slowly, Wendy calmed down.  Her tears stopped flowing, and her death grip on Stan’s neck slackened.  It wasn’t until Stan heard her softly snoring in his ear that he realized that she had cried herself to sleep.  Stan hauled himself to his feet as gently as he could.  He slowly lowered her onto her bed.  Wendy resisted a little, clinging to Stan like a burr in her sleep. 

Stan softly peeled her off and tucked her in to her bed.  He smiled softly as she grabbed a stuffed animal in her sleep.  Stan silently slipped out of the room, turning the light off behind him.  He turned, and almost jumped through the roof when he saw Soos standing less than two feet behind him.

“Sweet Moses kid!  Don’t sneak up on me like that.”  Stan clutched a hand to his chest.  He quietly ushered Soos toward the stairs and away from Wendy’s room.  “What are ya doing up here?  Where are the twins?”

“They were gettin’ tired after I fed em’ so I changed their diapers and put the little doods to bed.”  Soos gave Stan a buck-toothed grin.  “They went down pretty fast, so I cleaned the kitchen up, and swept the museum!”

“Huh, ya did all that, did ya?”  Stan was mildly impressed.

“Yeah!  I’ve got a lot of younger cousins, and I gotta help take care of em’ when family comes to visit.”  Soos said, but then his smile suddenly faded “You’re not mad at me, are ya?  Ya just told me to feed the twins, not put em’ to bed.”

“Mad?  I aint mad kid, I just got free babysitting.”  Stan smiled, patting Soos on the top of his head.  “Hey, you didn’t go near that puddle in the gift shop, did ya?”

“No, I saw some-some broken glass in the water.  Abuelita told me to stay away from broken glass.”  A yawn punctuated the young boy’s sentence, prompting Stan to check his watch.

“Aw, shoot!  It’s late, I gotta get you home.”  Stan quickly bundled the boy into the backseat of his car and took off, driving erratically and speeding more than he normally did.

“Goodnight Mr. Pines!”  Soos said as he got out of the car.

“Yeah, night Soos.  Hey, I don’t care if it’s past yer bedtime, make sure you’re in ta work bright and early tomorrow!”

“Yes sir!” 

Stan waited until Soos had gotten inside before he drove back home.  It didn’t take him too long to clean up the rest of the snow globe mess, and after poking his head into his room and checking on the twins in their crib, he slipped downstairs to the basement.         

* * *

 

“Foo, foo, foo!”  Mable and Mason chanted together from their high chairs.  Their noise was aggravating Stan’s headache, so he cooked faster.  Wendy was still asleep, and Stan wasn’t about to go wake her up after last night.  He was making flapjacks for breakfast, Wendy’s favorite, and the little twins were excited for them too.

“All right ya little terrors, settle down.”  Stan turned from the stove to look back at the twins, and started a little when he saw Wendy in the kitchen doorway.  She was still wearing her clothes from the day before, and there were still slight traces of tear tracks left on her face.  Stan’s fez was perched on her head, slipping down over her ears.  She shuffled her feet a little, not really looking at Stan.  “Well, it’s about time you got up.”  Stan grumbled, turning back to the flapjacks to hide his small smile at seeing her up.

“Wenny!”  Mabel happily giggled, before returning to chanting along with Mason for food. 

Stan heard the sound of a chair being dragged along the floor, and turned to see Wendy climbing up next to him.  She pushed his fez back as she climbed; it kept slipping over her eyes.  “What do you think you’re doing?”  Stan asked, one eyebrow cocked.  Wendy pulled the fez off of her head, and held it up to Stan.  With a small chuckle, he ducked low enough for Wendy to place it crookedly on his head, the tassel tickling his left ear.  “Thanks kid.”

“I’msorryaboutthesnowglobes.”  The words tumbled out of Wendy’s mouth, so fast Stan almost couldn’t understand them.

“Well, no one got hurt.  But that was a lot of merchandise ya broke missy.”  Stan poked Wendy lightly in the arm with his spatula.  “You’re gonna start helping me around the Shack to pay for all those.” 

“Okay.”  Wendy said.  She sat on the counter next to the stove, kicking her legs back and forth and bumping her heels against the cupboard door underneath.

“You ah, want somethin’?”  Stan asked her.

“Mr. Pines?  Can I ask you something?”  Wendy murmured

“Didn’t ya just?”  Stan said, laughing at his own joke.  Seeing the confused look on Wendy’s face, Stan said “Yeah kid, fire away.”

“Is it okay if I call you Uncle Stan?”  She whispered.

Stan fumbled with his spatula.  “W-what?  You wanna call me your _Uncle?”_

Wendy nodded, looking away from Stan.

“Heh.”  Stan couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face.  “Yeah, sure, if you really wanna.”  He tried to hide his joy under a layer of gruffness.  “You uh, wanna help me with these last few flapjacks?”

Wendy looked up at him, a small smile on her face.  “Yeah.  Sounds fun Uncle Stan.”


	3. Soos

“Okay kiddo, here ya go.”  Stan stood back from the bed he had just gotten set up against the wall.  “Yer room is all set up and ready fer ya to move in.”  Soos had been crashing on the couch in the living room while his Abuelita was in the hospital after tumbling down a staircase.  Stan still couldn’t believe the old lady had asked _him_ to share custody of the kid with her, now that she was moving into a retirement home.  He turned back to the doorway, but he didn’t see any of the kids standing where they had been only a few moments before.

Stan stuck his head out into the hall.  Down a ways he saw his suit coat and fez lying in a lump on the floor with a lock of red hair sticking out.  Stan walked over and crouched next to the lump.  Wendy was burrowed under the coat, and the fez was pulled down over her eyes.  “Huh.  I don’t remember leaving these here.”  Stan poked the jacket, a small smile coming to his face when Wendy giggled.  The girl pushed the fez back off of her eyes.  “Where’d yer siblings go?”

“That way.”  Wendy pointed down the hall that lead to the attic staircase.  He turned the corner and found Soos sitting on the bottom step of the stairs with three toddlers sitting in front of him and watching with fascination as he pulled the collar of his large Mystery Shack shirt up over his head, like a turtle pulling back into its shell, then popping his head back out with a cry of “Peek-a-boo doods!”

Mabel gave a delighted shriek, flopping backwards onto the hall floor and laughing louder than a three year old should be able to.  Mason just sat and stared at Soos in apparent amazement.  And sitting in between the twins and clapping happily was the infant daughter of Gravity Falls resident rich snobs, Pacifica Northwest.  Stan had taken up the lucrative Northwest nanny gig a little over three months earlier, after a series of bribes and forged papers, and honestly, it was a decision he did not regret.  It paid well, and Pacifica was a surprisingly sweet kid given who her parents were.

Stan scowled slightly at the thought of the Northwest’s.  What kind of parents had a butler drop their only kid off at a stranger’s house for over ten hours a day without a second thought?  Stan brushed his rising anger aside; he had kids to take care of, and he didn’t want them to think he was mad at one of them.  The last thing Stan wanted was to be like his father, making his kids worry about him getting upset at them.

“Hey, you kid’s havin’ a party without me?”  Stan scooped the three toddlers up amid shrieks of laughter.  He easily balanced all three squirming children in his arms, twisting his face away from tiny hands that were reaching for his eyes and glasses.

“The tiny doods kept tryin’ to get up into the attic, so I had to distract ’em.”  Soos popped to his feet with a grin.

“Good job kid.  I got yer room all set up if ya wanna unpack and get settled.”  Stan shifted his grip on the squirming infants, keeping a close eye on Pacifica who seemed like she was trying to jump to the floor.

“Hmm, I think I’ll do that after dinner.”  Soos reached up and grabbed the blonde baby for Stan.  “These little doods look like they’re gettin’ hungry.  Isn’t that right Paz?”  He didn’t seem bothered when Pacifica reached up and grabbed clumps of his hair.

“I’m hungry!”  Wendy piped up.

“Food!”  Mabel shrieked in Stan’s ear.  “Foodfoodfoodfood!”

Stan gave a small chuckle.  “Alright ya little gremlins, dinner it is.  Whadda you kids want?”

“Stancakes!”  The kids all chorused.

* * *

 

Stan gently crept backward out of his room, shutting the door on the twins in their crib in the corner as silently as possible.  He turned, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Soos standing barely two feet behind him, silent as a ghost.  “What the- Soos!”

“I got Wendy to finally go to bed Mr. Pines.”  The boy whispered as they tiptoed down the hall away from the sleeping infants.  “And one’a the butler doods came and got Paz.”

“Was it Big-Nose or Killer-Eyebrows?”

“It was a new dood with a mustache that looks like a broom is glued to his face.”  Soos waggled his fingers under his nose and giggled.

Stan gave a small snort.  “Did’ ya call yer Abuelita yet?”  The old lady would have his head if she didn’t hear from Soos at least once a day.

“Yeah, right after you went to put the twins down.  She said ta tell you to make sure I eat my fruits and veggies.”

They stopped in front of Soos’ new room.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”  Stan opened the door.  “So, uh, here we are.  Whadda ya think of yer bedroom?”

“It’s perfect Mr. Pines!”  Soos cheered, smiling up at Stan.  All of the kid’s things were still packed in boxes stacked against the wall, blankets were piled on top of the unmade bed, and the paint was chipped and peeling in the corners, but the way Soos was looking at everything you’d think Stan had just given him a penthouse suite or the keys to a French summer home.

Stan gave a small chuckle.  “Y’know, since yer living here now ya don’t have ta call me Mr. Pines.”

Soos gaped up at Stan with stars in his eyes.  “Really?”

“Uh, yeah.  Just call me ‘Stan’ if ya want.”

The boy jumped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Stan’s waist.  “Okay!  Thanks Mr. P- Stan!”

Stan awkwardly patted Soos’ shoulder.  “Uh, yeah, sure.  Now, would ya quit wrinkling my suit and get in bed?  Ya have school tomorrow.”

“Yes sir Stan sir!”  Soos gave a goofy little salute that Stan couldn’t help but smile at.  The boy turned to head into his room, but stopped and turned back to Stan.  “Um, what’re you gonna do with…those?”  He pointed down the hall to where more than a dozen wax figures, the previous occupants of his room, were stacked haphazardly.

“I’ll…find somewhere to put ‘em.”


	4. Pacifica

“Alright, open up sweetheart.”  Stan gently waved the spoonful of potatoes in front of the three-year-old girl in the high chair in front of him, trying to coax her into taking another bite.  The little blonde, Pacifica Northwest, squirmed and waved a pudgy fist in the air, nearly knocking the spoon out of his hand.  “C’mon squirt, I know it’s not the, I dunno, baby caviar or whatever that yer used to eating at home, but ya gotta eat _something.”_ Pacifica, or Paz as Stan and the kids usually call her, had been staying in the Mystery Shack for three days while her parents were off at a party somewhere in Europe.

It wasn’t difficult for Stan to take care of another kid.  Mabel and Mason liked sharing a crib, so Stan had just put Paz in Mabel’s and the twins shared Mason’s.  There was plenty of food in the house; honestly it was harder for Stan to get her to eat than anything.

A glob of potatoes hit the side of Stan’s face with a splat.  The sound of giggles filled the dining room as he looked over at the other kids.  Wendy was supposed to be helping Mason eat, but to Stan it looked more like she piled all of her carrots onto his plate and then just started sculpting her potatoes into a something that vaguely resembled…a mountain maybe? Except for the bit she had thrown at him at least.  And Soos and Mabel both had potatoes smeared all over their faces.

Three knocks pounded against the front door.  “I got it!”  Wendy leapt up and ran to the door, only for Stan to grab the back of her feety pajamas and lift her off of the ground.

“Oh no ya don’t.  _I’ll_ get it.”  He set her down in her chair.  “You stay here.”  Wendy stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry up at Stan, who stuck his tongue out right back at her.  The girl giggled before turning back to her food sculpture.  Stan hid a grin of his own behind a fist before schooling his face into a scowl to see who was coming by this late at night.

The knocks sounded again, three crisp, loud sounds echoing loudly through the Shack.  Stan grabbed the kitchen baseball bat on his way to the door.  “I’m comin’ I’m comin’!  Pipe down, would ya?”  The lock stuck a little before clicking open.  Some guy in a suit was standing on the porch, waving a probably-silk handkerchief at the moths flitting around him.  Stan’s first thought was ‘tax collector’, but this guy didn’t have the right feel to him.  “Whaddaya want?” Stan slung the bat over one shoulder.

The man gaped for a moment before clearing his throat and straightening, adjusting his suit.  “Good evening, sir.”  His voice was faintly accented, something European that Stan couldn’t quite pin down.  “Is this the residence of one Stanford Filbrick Pines?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

The man was taken aback for a moment.  “Are you not Stan Pines?”

Stan rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I am.”  Then he shut the door.  He had taken two steps when the man started knocking again.  Stan pulled the door back open.  The man opened his mouth to speak, but Stan started talking first.  “Look, I’ve got five kids ta take care of, and it’s bed time right now, so if you don’t mind,” Stan grabbed a small cord made from a jump-rope behind the door and gave it a tug.  There was a _splash_ as the booby-trap Soos had come up with dumped a bucket of Gatorade on the mans head, soaking him, “ _buzz off buddy._ ”  Stan shut the door, making the glass rattle.  He made it halfway through the gift shop before Soos poked his head through the doorway.

“Who was that Stan?”  He didn’t seem to notice or care that he had a glob of mashed potato in his hair.

Another set of knocks had Stan grinding his teeth together.  He dropped the bat with a clatter and grabbed the mace off of the wall.  “Someone who’s asking ta be maimed.  Can ya start gettin’ the kiddos cleaned up while I deal with this?”

“Aye aye, Stan!”

Stan pulled the door open.  The man was spluttering and stained bright orange.  “Sir, I m-must insist that you-GOOD HEAVENS!”  The stiff jumped six feet into the air when he saw the mace.

“What.  Do you.  Want.  Pal?”  Stan growled.  “And make it snappy.  I got a trio a’ toddlers who gotta sleep soon, a middle-schooler with a big math test tomorrow, and a preschooler who is veritable _hell_ ta get up in the morning.”

“Yes, yes, ah, the children are actually what I came by tonight, Mr. Pines.”

Stan’s knuckles whitened on the handle of the mace.  “You from Child Services or somethin’?  I swear, if Linda from the PTA called ya, she’s just pissed that Soos’ project won the science fair instead of her little monsters dumb volcano.  Whaddid she say?  That I’m an ‘insufficient caretaker’ or somethin’?”

“Ah, no, no, nothing like that sir.”  The man held up his hands.  “I am a representative of Octavia Northwest.  She has come to claim guardianship of her granddaughter.”

“Guardianship?  What happened ta her parents?”

“Earlier this evening, there was a terrible tragedy.  The Northwest’s jet went down over the Alps, and there were no survivors.”

Stan’s eyebrows rose.  “Oh.  Jeez.  That’s awful.”  He didn’t care much for the older generation of Northwest, but Paz was a sweet kid.  She didn’t deserve something like…this.

“Yes.  We have come to collect her and her things.”  The (probably) butler attempted to dab the Gatorade off of his face with a soaked handkerchief.

“We?”  Stan looked behind the butler and could see the shape of a limo in the dark.  A light was on inside, and he could make out the outline of a person.

“Yes.  Madame Octavia is waiting for me to bring her granddaughter out to her.”

Stan scowled.  “Can’t she come out here and get her herself?”

The butler stammered.  “Erm, Madame Octavia is quite the busy woman, and she-”

“Busy wo- she’s sitting in a _car,_ in the _dark_!  She ain’t _busy_ at all!”  Stan growled, waving the mace in the air.  “She can walk the twenty feet to the porch herself.  If she even cares about the kid.”

The butler took a step back.  “Sir, I assure you, Madame Octavia cares about her granddaughter very much.”

“Her _name_ is Pacifica buddy,” Stan jabbed a finger at the butler, “and I’m not about ta hand a three-year-old over to an old rich hag who can’t be bothered to get out’a her fancy car, and her balding lackey that won’t even call a child by her name.”  He grabbed the door handle and started to push it closed.  “So you can go out an’ tell Her Excellency or whatever the heck I’m supposed to call her, that she can have Pacifica when she’s ready ta come take care’a her herself.”

“Uh-” The butler took another step back.  “Sir, I believe that that is, technically, a kidnapping.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow, “Yep.”

“Which is, uh, very, very…illegal?”

“What’s your point?”

“Uh…”

“Look, if you’ve got nothin’ else ta say,” Stan brandished the mace “get off of my property.”

The butler gave a squeal like a stuck pig before turning, tripping down the stairs and hightailing it to the limo.  Stan locked the door, flicked off the porch light, and put the mace back on the wall before heading back into the kitchen.  The place was clean as a whistle, except for Stan’s plate of food sitting in the open microwave. 

Stan gave a small smile, his anger at Paz’s grandmother subsiding a bit, before turning and heading up the stairs.  He could hear the sound of the kids chattering in Soos’ room.  He pushed the door open.  “Hey, what’re you kids up to?”  Wendy was sitting on the floor, coloring in a coloring book.  Mason and Paz were both playing with blocks, and Soos was just finishing combing out Mabel’s hair.

“Grunk Stan!”  Mabel gave a happy shriek and toddled over to Stan, grabbing onto his knee when she got close enough.

“Hey Pumpkin!”  Stan scooped the little girl up, blowing a raspberry on her cheek and making her giggle.  “Yer happy ta see me, aren’t ya?”

“Hey Stan!”  Soos hopped up.  “Everyone is cleaned up and ready for bed.”

“Nice job kid.”  Stan ruffled his hair.  “I’ll get the little three in bed, you think you can get Wendy down?”

“Never!”  Wendy hopped up and dashed out of the room, squealing with laughter as Soos took off after her. 

“Hey, keep it down would ya?  It’s _bedtime,_ not rampage time!”  Stan hissed as he picked up the three toddlers, balancing them easily in his arms.  Mason was practically asleep already, even with Mabel chattering nonstop in his ear, but Stan knew that she would be asleep as soon as he put her down.  And he was right.  The twins curled up next to each other in their crib, so close they were practically sleeping on top of each other.  Paz however, was another matter entirely.

She was a bit fussier than the twins.  It had taken awhile for Stan to get her to calm down and go to sleep the past few nights, even when the little tyke was exhausted.  Tonight was no exception; Paz fussed and squirmed in his arms, refusing to fall asleep.  Stan chewed his lip as it hit him that he was holding an orphan on the night her parents died for the second time in his life.  “Dang it kid, I don’t like yer parents at all, but I’m sorry that their gone for yer sake.”  He murmured to the infant.  “And now yer gonna get stuck livin’ with that old hag.  If she even takes the time ta look at ya.”

Paz whined, pulling on his undershirt.  “Heh, sorry kid.  Don’t mean ta be a downer.  But no one should grow up raised by someone who doesn’t care about them.  And ya may have been born a spoiled brat, but yer not bad, ya know.  Yer actually pretty sweet right now.  Try not ta grow outta that, okay?”  She blinked up at him, slowly and sleepily.  “I’ll hold ya to that squirt.  Are ya ready to go ta bed now?”  Stan gently lowered her down into the crib. She moaned a little, but settled down after Stan tucked the stuffed toy llama Mabel gave her under her arm.  “Sleep tight, princess.”

* * *

 

The sound of three familiar knocks on the door during breakfast almost made Stan shatter his glass of orange juice in his hand.  “You have _got_ to be kidding me!”  He stood up, almost knocking his chair over.

“What’s wrong Uncle Stan?”  Wendy said around a mouthful of toast.

“I have a nuisance to take care of.  I’ll be right back kids.”  This time, Stan grabbed the battle axe off of the wall instead of the mace.  He threw the door open with a bang.  “Is that old bat gonna come get Pacifica herself, or not?”

The butler held a stack of papers and a pen in front of him like a shield.  “N-no, um, hello again sir.  Madame Octavia told me to inform you that, erm, ‘if you want to keep the child so badly, then go ahead’.  If you sign these forms, you will become Pacifica’s new legal guardian.  Madame Octavia also included a compensation check for you to use to purchase necessities for her should you choose to keep the child.”  He offered the papers to Stan at arms length.

“So she’s dumpin’ her granddaughter on me, covering it up, and bribing me to keep my mouth shut about it.”  Stan cocked an eyebrow at the trembling man.  Then he gave a small shrug and let the axe drop to the ground.  The butler jumped.  Stan snatched the papers out of the mans hands and used the door as a writing surface.  “Good.”

“Good?”  The butler sounded bewildered.  “You mean you _want_ to keep the child?”

“Yep.”  Stan reached over and stuck the pen into the butlers front pocket.  “Is there anything else you or the old lady wants from me?”

“Uh, no-”

Stan shut the door and went into his office so he could lock these new documents in his safe, along with the deed to the Shack, and the other adoption certificates he had acquired in the past few years.

“Stan!  We gotta go soon or we’re gonna be late for school!”  Soos cried out from the kitchen.

“Yeah!  No school, no school, no school!”  Wendy started to chant.

“ _Yes_ school, young lady.”  Stan said.  “But, um, before we head out, I’ve got an announcement to make.”  Wendy and Soos stopped putting their jackets and backpacks on to look at him.  Even the babies gave him their attention.  “Paz is gonna be living with us now.  Permanently.”

“Okay!”  Wendy said, “Can we skip school to celebrate?”  She gave a cute little smile and batted her eyes.

“Sorry squirt, not today.”  Stan ruffled her pigtails.  Wendy pouted and stuck her tongue out.  “But maybe on Saturday we’ll do somethin’, how’s that sound?”

“Fine.  I guess.”

“Good, now, out to the car Red.” Stan turned back to the babies and squawked when he saw Pacifica wearing her little bowl of cream of wheat on her head like a hat.  “Oh, c’mon.  Soos, can you get the twins out to their car seats while I get Paz here cleaned up?”

“You got it dood!”

Stan picked up Paz and held her out at arms length to keep food off of his suit.  “Eesh kid, you sure had fun with yer breakfast, huh?”  The toddler gurgled happily and clapped as Stan carried her into the bathroom.  “Well, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Paz squirmed and whined as Stan wiped off her face and hands and hair.  “Hey, I don’t enjoy this either, kid.  I dunno how ya would get cleaned up in fancy town, but yer gonna be living here now, so get used to this.”  She gave him a reproachful look.  “Don’t look at me like that.”  Stan poked the little girls nose, and she gave a shocked little giggle.  “Heh.  Welcome to the family, princess.”


	5. Candy and Grenda

“And if you look to your right, you’ll see one of our newest attractions!”  Stan gestured with his cane.  “The amazing, the astounding-” he pulled the sheet away with a flourish.  “Fiji Mermaid!”

The crowd _ooh_ ed and _ahh_ ed at the sight of a monkey corpse sewed onto a dried-up fish butt decorated with sequins and ribbons and an unholy amount of glitter.  Stan grinned a perfect showman’s grin, posing for pictures.

There was the sound of footsteps before something crashed into Stan from behind.  “Hey Uncle Stan!”  Wendy’s voice popped up in Stan’s ear as she held onto his shoulders, stealing a piggy-back ride and the crowd’s attention.

“And here, ladies and gentleman, is the brave fisherwoman who is responsible for bringing in this fearsome catch, the Mystery Shack’s own Wendy Pines!”  Stan said with a flourish.  The crowd cheered as Wendy gave a salute, playing along.  “Why, this little adventurer was out by the lake, when suddenly, the Fiji Mermaid leapt out of the water and clawed its way across the beach toward her.  But, did Wendy run away?  No she didn’t!  This fierce eight-year-old warrior fought the beast off, all by herself, and brought it back here as a trophy.  Pretty impressive, don’t you agree?”  The crowd gave another cheer, and Stan finished the tour with Wendy clinging to his shoulders.

“What are you doing home from school so early?”  Stan asked as Wendy let go of him and dropped to the ground.

“There was some boring assembly at the end of the day, so I snuck out.  I got Sheriff Blubbs to give me a ride the rest of the way home.” 

“Well, guess that means ya get ta put in some overtime then.”  He picked her up and set her on a stool behind the cash register.

“Aw, c’mon Uncle Stan!”  Wendy pouted, arms crossed.  “The new Ducktective episode comes on soon!  I wanted to watch it.

“Hey, you’re the one playing hooky, you’re the one who gets ta pay the price, squirt.”  Stan ruffled her hair, chuckling when she batted at his hand in irritation.  “And don’t you guys watch the later showings of those usually?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s cooler to watch the first showing.”  She crossed her arms and scowled.

“Yer not gonna miss anything Wendy.  Besides, no school tomorrow.  Don’t you think you’d like watching it in yer pajamas, with yer siblings would be more fun?”

Wendy grumbled something under her breath.

“And maybe with a treat for everyone?”  Stan said with a knowing grin.

The little girl perked up, “Like what?”

“I was thinking about making brownies.  But, if you don’t want me to, you can go watch yer show-”

“Nope!  I can wait!  You go do another tour or something.”  Wendy shrugged out of her backpack and dropped it behind the counter, shoving at Stan with one hand.

Stan hid a chuckle as he left to peruse the gift shop and talk to customers, see who he could convince to buy more merch.  It wasn’t long until Soos showed up from high school, and after saying a quick hello to Stan and Wendy and dropping his backpack in the kitchen, he donned his tool belt and got to work, fixing anything that needed it, and a few attractions that weren’t broken.

Stan had set up the tour schedules so that he was able to get after-school snacks ready for the tiny trio, and welcome them home from school.  He heard the kitchen door open behind him as he was cutting up a couple of apples, and braced himself for impact as he heard his youngest kids rush up to him.  But instead of just Dipper, Mabel, and Paz wrapping their arms around his knees and happily calling his name, he heard two more voices in the mix, one squeaky and accented, the other one was loud and booming.  And an extra set of arms in the hug lifted Stan half a foot off of the ground.

“What the-?”  Stan turned his head and saw two other kids with his, a tiny girl with dark cropped hair and thick round glasses, and a taller, almost beefy little girl with red-brown hair pulled into messy pig-tail braids.

“Grunkle Stan!”  Mabel squeaked as the one girl set Stan down.  “This is Grenda-” she put an arm around the girl with the pigtails, who said ‘Hi’ in the booming voice he heard earlier, “-and Candy-” the tiny girl waved and adjusted her glasses, saying something in some language Stan didn’t know, Korean maybe? “-and they’re my ‘dopted sisters!”

“What-oh, Mable, sweetie,” Stan knelt in front of her, “it doesn’t work like that.  Candy and Grenda have their own families they need to go home to.  You can’t just adopt them as your sisters.”

“No we don’t!”  Grenda- well, Stan didn’t know if she was shouting on _purpose_ or if she was just naturally that loud- “We live in the orph’nage!”

“You…” Stan ran a critical eye over the two little girls.  Their clothes were clean, but ill fitting and worn.  Grenda’s hair was knotted and tangled, and Candy’s looked like it had been cut short with a pair of dull scissors.  They both had large backpacks, larger than Stan expected they would need for school.  It reminded Stan of more than a few kids he had seen when he was living on the streets.

“Yeah!  So we said they could come live with us!”  Paz said, grinning widely.  Dipper nodded in agreement with both of his sisters.

“Well…” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck.  He didn’t know what to say.  There were already five kids living in the Shack, they were pressed for space, and Stan was pretty sure that having so many kids in the house with him was making his hearing even worse than it already is.  But he had three of his kids giving him the puppy-dog look, with back-up from two more little kids.  The rational part of Stan’s brain was going _‘Are you kidding?  Do you really think that you can even more kids, are you insane?’_ But, for the millionth time in the past five years, Stan felt his ‘stone cold’ heart soften because of the kids.  And, well, what were two more kids to take care of?  “I’ll swing by the orphanage, sign the papers, and pick up two new beds.” He sighed, smiling despite himself.

There was a loud cheer from all of the kids, and Stan was knocked backwards as all five of the preschoolers jumped on him, cheering.  He laughed, before pushing the kids off gently and standing.  “Okay ya munchkins, I ain’t a jungle gym.  You kids show Candy and Grenda around the house, then help Wendy and Soos with the Shack.  I’ll be back soon, alright?”

“Yes Grunkle Stan!”  The kids chorused, before running off.  Candy stopped briefly and turned back, saying something to him in Korean again, before chasing after the rest of the little kids.  As Stan grabbed his car keys and went out, he made a note to pick up an English-to-Korean dictionary.


	6. Stan (part 1)

Stan was waiting in the car, fingers tapping idly on the steering wheel as he listened to the light rain pattering on the roof.  He glanced at the clock, then back out the window towards the elementary school.  The chess club that Paz was in should be just about over by now.  Normally Dipper stayed for the club too, but he had woken up with a fever that morning, so he made him stay in bed.  A trail of kids finally started to exit the school, and Stan reached over and unlocked the passenger side door as he saw Paz running toward him with her hot-pink hoodie pulled up over her head.

“Grunkle Stan!”  She leaped into the dropping her backpack down by her feet.  “Your never gonna guess what I found!”  She was bouncing up and down in her seat, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hmm…A rat with two heads, eating a cheese burger, with a cookie instead of a bun?”  Stan glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye as he drove them onto the road.

“Pfft, no way!”  She started to rummage through her backpack, before pulling a maroon book out and holding it up for Stan to see.  He gaped at the brass six fingered handprint with the number ‘2’ written on it.  “I found this!  Pretty cool, huh?”

Stan tore his gaze away from the Journal and schooled his face into a neutral expression.  “Yeah, looks pretty interesting.  But I think I’m gonna take that tonight Princess.”

“What!  Why?”

“I wanna look through it, make sure there’s nothing in there I don’t want ya reading.”

“But I’ve already-” Paz started to protest, but stopped with a small sigh.  “Okay, fine.”

“Thanks kiddo.  I’ll give it back to you tomorrow if I don’t find anything bad in there.”

They chatted for the rest of the drive about how school and chess club went.  Stan kept his cool until they got home and he had slipped into his office.  He leaned against the door and slid to the ground, running his fingers through his hair and knocking his fez crooked and letting out a shaky, soft laugh.  He felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes.  “I can’t-she just-heh, heh.  Amazing.”  He placed one hand on the cover of Journal 2, right on top of Fords handprint.  They were an almost perfect match, all except for the extra finger on the Journal’s cover.

Stan had another Journal.  He couldn’t believe it!  Twenty-five _years_ of searching, and a six-year-old girl found it in the _elementary school_ of all places!  Stan pushed himself to his feet, and put the Journal on top of his desk.  He took a moment to collect himself, straighten his suit and his fez.  He didn’t want any of the kids to think something was wrong.  And besides, he was going to have to hustle the kids to bed tonight.  Stan was going to need all of the time he could get to work on the Portal that night.

** _Two years later_ **

“Kids!  I need someone to go hang up signs in the scary part of the forest!”  It was a really slow day at the Shack.  Barely anybody had shown up -which was really odd since summer vacation had just started- and everybody was bored out of their minds.  Soos had dismantled and reassembled several different attractions, Paz and Dipper were sitting next to each other in Stan’s armchair, both reading Journal 2 for probably the millionth time since Paz found it. Candy, Grenda and Mabel had been coloring together, but had started giving each other ‘tattoos’ with the probably-not-permanent markers they had.  And Wendy was lying on her back on the couch trying to see how many forks she could get stuck in the ceiling; she hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas, a large NASA shirt and a pair of knee length shorts.

There was a chorus of _‘Not mes’_ , so Stan played a quick game of ‘eenie meenie minney you’ and landed on Wendy.

“Aw, c’mon Uncle Stan!”  Wendy groaned, flipping around so she was upside down on the couch.

“Dipper, go with her.”

“What!?”

“ _Now_ , kids.”  Stan hustled the both of them out the door with signs, a hammer, and nails.  He went back to reading the news paper.  Maybe fifteen minutes later, Stan heard the sound of a car pull up, and he jumped up to see if any wallets with legs had shown up, but it was just some lost family looking for directions.  And then, ten-ish minutes, he heard Wendy and Dipper come charging back in.

“Grunkle Stan!!!”

“Uncle Stan!!!”

“Grunkle Stan!!!”

Uncle Stan!!!”

“What, what, what, what?” Stan said, before he caught sight of what Dipper was holding over his head and felt his jaw drop.  It was…

“Another Journal!”  Paz squeaked.

Stan felt his jaw drop.

**_ Later that night _ **

“Come on, come on.”  Stan hefted the barrel, wrinkling his nose at the toxic sludge that poured out and into the machine he had been working on for almost thirty years.  “Should be just enough to finish the job.”  He wiped the back of his fist across his forehead, flicking drops of sweat and toxic waste around the room, _“_ Can't be too careful with this stuff.”  Red lights stated blinking in the consoles, bouncing off the lenses of Stan’s glasses.

He flipped through his brothers Journal, "’Warning, blah blah blah, Extreme usage could result in minor gravity anomalies.’ Can it, Poindexter!”  He slammed the book shut, “I've come this far. I'm not givin' up now!”  Stan slammed a fist down on the console, hitting a button.  The portal sparked to life, lighting up brighter than Stan had seen it in thirty years.  “Yes, this is it!”  He felt his fez lift up off of his head, felt himself grow lighter and his feet start to leave the ground, before gravity abruptly returned and dropped him, along with everything else that had started to float.

“It's gonna be a bumpy ride, but it'll all be worth it.”  He hit a button on a watch-looking thing he had found in one of the desk drawers years ago.  “Just eighteen more hours. Finally, everything changes. Today.”

**_ The next day _ **

“GRUNKLE STAAAAANN!!!!!!”  Dipper yelled.

Stan flipped the next few Stancakes on the griddle.  “Whaaaaaat?”  He didn’t turn to look at the table where his kids were sitting.

“Grenda’s drinking all the orange juice right out of the carton again!”

“Am not!”

“Grenda!  Share the orange juice.  Dipper, stop yelling in the house!”

“But you’re yelling too!”

Stan walked over to the table with a full plate of Stancakes, placing the steaming stack in the middle of the table.  “That’s cause I’m the adult, wise guy.”  He pushed the bright blue beanie Mabel had knit for Dipper down low over his eyes, eliciting an indignant squawk from the eight-year-old.

“Soos is almost an adult Grunkle Stan.”  Candy said, pointing at her soon to be eighteen-year-old brother with a fork she had taped to her finger.  “Will he be allowed to yell then?”

“Oh, oh!”  Grenda smacked a hand down on the table, rattling the dishes, “When will I be allowed to yell?  I wanna yell right now!”

“You already _are_ yelling Grenda!”  Paz lobbed a blueberry across the table.  It bounced off of Mabel’s nose instead of Grenda’s.

Stan gave a fond chuckle at the antics.  “Hey, where’s Wendy at?  She aint still asleep, is she?”

“No, she was up.”  Soos brought a few dishes over to the sink.

“Hmm.  Well, she better hurry if she wants any-” Stan was cut off by the sound of someone jumping down the stairs.

“Guys!”  Wendy slid into the kitchen.  “You have to check out what I found!”

Stan tried to speak, but in an instant he was alone in the kitchen, and it sounded like a herd of elephants was running around upstairs.  He turned the griddle off and shrugged his apron off before following his family up.  Stan followed the sound of overlapping chatter through the Shack.

“Whoa, these are so cool!”

“This one is almost as big as me!”

“Guys, guys, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Stan turned the corner just as an excited chorus shook the walls.  “CRAZY ROOFTOP FIREWORK PARTY!!!”

“Not so fast, kids!”  Stan boomed. “There is no way on earth you're setting off those dangerous, illegal fireworks.”  All of the kids turned to look at him, their faces displaying various degrees of shock and surprise.  “Without me.”  He finished with a grin, kneeling and placing a hand on Candy’s shoulder.

“But, what about work?”  Soos asked, earning an elbow in the side from Wendy.

“Eh, forget about it.” Stan waved a hand in the air dismissively.  “Let’s just have a Family Fun Day today!”

“ _You_ want to blow off work?”  Wendy asked, incredulous.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Grunkle Stan?”  Paz sassed, hands on hips.

“Oh no, you’ve figured me out!”  Stan wriggled his fingers and grinned.  “I’m really the horrible tickle monster!  I replaced yer uncle, and I’m here ta eat you all!”

The sound of his kids shrieking and laughing and running down the hall with their arms full of fireworks was _deafening,_ but Stan didn’t mind as he chased after them all.

After everyone had gotten dressed and finished breakfast, the whole Pines family climbed up onto the roof.  They had a blast taking turns lighting off all the fireworks together, even when Blubbs and Durland showed up.  Once they had run out of fireworks, Mabel had the idea to have a water balloon fight.

It wasn’t long until everyone was soaked and sticky with Freezy Pops.  Everything seemed…perfect.  Stan glanced down at his watch, and his smile faltered a little.  “Kids, there's something I, uh, something I should tell you.  It's um,” he faltered, scratching his chin.  Everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity and confusion.  _”_  Well it's complicated.  I... I'm gonna go refresh my soda.”  He walked around the side of the house, and spoke to his reflection in the window.  “Enjoy it while you can, Stan.  They'll find out sooner or later. Today's the day.”  He saw a red dot on his fez.  “What is that, a ladybug?”  Stan swatted at it, and then felt a spike of panic as a dozen more popped up all over his suit.  “What the--? Oh no!”

The next thing Stan knew, he had his hands cuffed and he was being slammed face-first onto the hood of a car.  He craned his neck and felt his heart stop.  His kids were surrounded by government men holding big guns; they all looked _terrified._ Soos was holding Mabel, and she was clinging to his neck.  Candy and Grenda were hugging each other tightly.  Wendy had Paz holding onto her shoulders in a piggy-back, and had one hand around Dippers shoulder, keeping him close to her.

“Kids!”  Stan yelled, and felt the agent pulled him up and shoved him into a car.  He banged on the window as hard as he could, frantic as he saw one of the agents talking to his kids.  The looks that Stan saw on his kids faces broke his heart; fear, anger, disbelief, even…betrayal.  _‘What are you gonna do now Stan?’_


	7. Stan (part 2)

Dipper was wedged between Wendy and Mabel in the back of the government guy’s car.  He and Mabel were clinging to each other, and Wendy had her arm wrapped around both of their shoulders.  The rest of his siblings were sitting in the middle seat, with Candy sitting on Soos’s lap so there was enough room for them to fit.

“What’r we gonna do Wendy?”  He whispered up at her, eyes flickering between her and the agent who was driving the car.

“I…I’ll figure something out Dip, don’t worry.”  She looked calm and confident, and that made Dipper feel a little better.  He tightened his hug on Mabel, and felt her do the same.

Wendy leaned forward and poked the back of Candy’s head.  She turned, looking over Soos’s shoulder, her eyes wide behind her glasses.  She was clutching her backpack close to her like it was a teddy bear.  Wendy whispered something to her; she gave a small nod, then whispered something to Grenda, Soos, and Paz, and started digging in her backpack.  Soos put one arm around Paz’s shoulders.  Grenda leaned forward and started knocking on the glass that separated the Pines kids from the agent in the front.  And since Grenda was the one knocking, the whole car felt like it was vibrating.

“What is it?”  The agent sounded annoyed when he rolled the glass down, and Dipper glanced up at Wendy in concern.  She was staring straight ahead, and had a little scowl on her face.  He felt her tighten her grip on him and Mabel.

“I have to tell you something!”  Candy said, one hand in her backpack. 

 _“What?”_ The agent glanced back, scowling.

“Catch!”  She threw something up onto the dashboard, and there was a moment before the little thing gave a loud _BANG,_ emitting sparks and smoke and a loud, shrill noise.  It was one of the little ‘Party Screamers’ that Candy had made that got the four younger sisters kicked out of their old scout troop.

The agent gave a small yell as smoke filled the car, and Dipper clung to his sisters as the car swerved and crashed into a tree.  He heard a lot of screaming, and felt Wendy pull him and Mabel really close.  Mabel’s head knocked against Dippers, and he felt himself bite his tongue. 

“Is everyone okay?”  Dipper heard Wendy ask.  He heard all of his siblings groan to say that they were alright. 

“The door is stuck shut.”  Paz said, pushing against it as hard as she could.

“Scoot over.”  Grenda crawled over to the door and kicked it open easily.  Soos helped her out, then climbed out himself and helped everyone else out, picking them up and setting them down in the forest.

“Mayday! Mayday! Agent down!” The agent yelled, struggling against the branch that had him pinned in the tree.  “Darn branch!  Backup! Requesting backup!”  Mabel pulled the Agents earpiece out and stomped on it.

“C’mon guys, lets go clear our uncles name.”  Wendy said, grabbing Candy and Mabel’s hands.  

“Oh, you poor kids. You really think your uncle's innocent? I've seen it all before.”  The agent started to say.

Wendy tugged on her little sisters hands, leading them back in the direction of home as fast as she could.  Soos picked Paz up and put her on his shoulders and followed after them, letting Grenda take his hand.  Dipper pulled a twig out of his beanie and started walking after his siblings, but he stopped when the agent kept speaking.

“False names, double lives, one minute they're playing with water balloons, the next they're building doomsday devices. Your uncle scammed the whole world. You gonna let him scam you, too?”

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”  Dipper snapped, walking over to the car and glaring right into the agent’s face.  “Grunkle Stan is the greatest person in the world!  He loves us, and he’s not bad or anything, and you’re gonna eat your words!”

He started to catch up with  his siblings, but he stopped when the agent yelled at him. “You're gonna regret this!!”  Dipper ran back and kicked the front bumper of the car, making the air bag inflate and the alarm go off before chasing after his siblings.

* * *

 

“Okay, here we go guys.”  Wendy pressed play on the t.v., and wound through the footage until she found the night Stan had supposedly stolen the toxic waste.  At first, everything looked fine!  Stan was restocking, just like he said.

Then he vanished for hours.  And he came back with barrels of toxic waste.

But he had to have a good reason to do it, right?  So then the kids searched the rest of the office, trying to find something, _anything_ that they could use to figure out what Stan was doing.

And they found the box full of fake i.d.s.

And the newspaper clipping that said ‘Stan Pines Dead’ in huge letters.

And the code to the secret door behind the vending machine.

And the secret basement lab with Journal 1 and the huge, terrifying machine that was glowing and whirring and only a few minutes until it turned on.

Using the Journals, the Pines kids started to deactivate the device.  Wendy was about to press the red button and stop it, when Stan burst into the lab.

“DON'T TOUCH THAT BUTTON!!”  He was breathing hard, his suit was torn, and, to Wendy’s surprise, he looked just as scared as she felt.  “Wendy, just back away.  Please don't press that shutdown button, you gotta trust me.”

“Grunkle Stan!!”  The five little kids all ran forward, jumping into his arms.  Soos jumped in on the hug too, but Wendy hesitated.

“Uncle Stan what _is_ all this!”  She took a small step away from the deactivation button, but kept her hand over it.

“Look, I know this all seems nuts, but I need that machine to stay on!”  Stan set the little kids down with Soos and walked towards her.  Wendy stepped closer to the button when he knelt in front of her.  “If you'd just let me explain-” There was a beeping noise, and Stan looked down at a clunky watch, panic flashing on his face.  “Uh-oh, oh, no! Brace yourselves!”

And then Wendy felt herself float up into the air, spinning around.  Over Stan’s shoulder, she saw Soos holding onto the little five.  She spun around again, head over heels, and caught sight of the huge gaping hole in the machine.  It was swirling and sparking, and she felt like she was staring into the mouth of a monster.  Her heart caught in her throat when she realized she was drifting closer to it.

“U-uncle Stan!!”  She screamed as loud as she could over the noise of the machine.  Her arms pinwheeled, and Wendy tried to find someway to get away from it.  “Uncle Stan help!!!  UNCLE STAN!!!”

A hand grabbed the back of her overalls, and instead of being swallowed up by the light, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his chest.  “I gotcha Red.  I gotcha.”  Uncle Stan said, holding her close.  Wendy saw that he was holding onto a long cord that was attached to some piece of machinery in the wall, keeping both of them from drifting closer to the swirling light.

The machine flashed, and Wendy felt as they were thrown backwards.  Uncle Stan lost his grip on the cord, and twisted around so that he hit the wall instead of Wendy.

A few feet away, all of Wendy’s siblings were pinned against the wall too.  The little five were all holding onto each other, and Soos was holding onto all of them, keeping them from hitting the wall.

“Grunkle Stan!  What’s happening?”  Mabel screamed, reaching out to him.  Uncle Stan stretched his hand out, and he was able to grab onto her little hand.

“It’s alright!  Kid’s, I promise everything is going to be fine!”  He yelled.  Wendy wrapped her arms tighter around his neck.  “Everything is going to be okay!”

The clock ran down, and then there was a bright _flash_ as everything turned white and weightless.  Wendy lost her grip on Uncle Stan, but he held tight to her, and shielded her  when gravity returned and dropped them to the floor. 

“Is-is everyone okay?”  Uncle Stan croaked out.  Wendy groaned in agreement, and she heard everyone else do the same.

“Grunkle Stan?”  Dipper squeaked.  “Who _is_ that?”  He pointed toward the wrecked machine, and in the fading light Wendy could see an adult dressed in all dark clothes step out of it.

Wendy scooted off of Uncle Stan’s chest, and he pulled himself onto his knees.  “The Author of the Journals.”  He said, standing. “My brother.”


	8. Ford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first chapter I wrote for this fic!  
> BTW, theres one cuss word in this chapter, so heads up.

Ford pulled his goggles and scarf off, glaring angrily at the room he was in.  Or, more specifically, the man who was in it.  Older and greyer, dressed in a suit and with their fathers old fez perched crookedly on his head, Stanley approached Ford with his arms held out and a wide smile on his face.  Anger boiled in Fords gut; how dare his brother stand there looking so pleased with himself!  Stanley had, once again, ruined everything that Ford had been working for, and this time he had jeopardized the safety of the entire universe!

He didn’t notice he had moved until his fist collided with Stanley’s cheek.  Ford watched his brother reel back with bitter satisfaction.  “Ow!  What the heck was that for?”

Ford swept and arm through the air, berating his brother.  “This was an insanely risky-”  He was cut off as what could only be called a war cry filled the Portal room and a small weight slammed into his stomach with the force of a battering ram.  Ford was flung backward, landing on the hard ground with the wind knocked out of him.

“GRENDA POWER!”  A voice proclaimed proudly.  Ford propped himself on his elbows and gapped when he saw his assailant.  A little girl stood where he had been moments ago, fists held over her head in triumph.  She couldn’t have been older than nine, and her hair was in two messy braids.  Her appearance was a direct contrast to her booming voice, and the strength Ford had just gained firsthand experience with.

As Ford looked behind her he realized that she wasn’t the only unexpected presence in the room; a small mass of children had appeared and swarmed around Stanley.   To the right of him stood another young girl, blonde hair in pigtails, and a boy who was practically drowning in an oversized green coat and blue beanie.  Both of them were holding two very familiar books, glancing back and forth between each other and Ford.  Another girl with her hair in braids who bore a striking resemblance to the boy was holding the hand of what seemed to be a young gopher-man and tugging on Stanley’s left pant leg, chattering up at him.  A gangly red-head in overalls had come to stand just in front of the two children holding Ford’s Journals with a scowl on her freckled face.  And right next to her another child was digging through a backpack that was almost bigger than they were.

There was a small squeak as the child slipped into the backpack, their legs sticking out and kicking.  With a sigh Stan plucked the child, a small girl with thick round glasses and dark hair cut in a bob, out of the backpack and set her on her feet.  She had something clenched in one fist, and she adjusted her glasses with the other one.  She said something to Stanley in-Korean?- and to Ford’s surprise Stan responded in kind.

Ford sat up, wheezing.  “Stanley, what the fuck are all these children doing here?”

“BAD WOOOORD!!!!”  The little brown-haired girl screamed, clapping both hands over her ears.  “Bad word bad word badwordbadwordbadwordbadwordbadword-” she started to run circles around Stanley and the other kids, chanting so rapidly Ford wasn’t sure she was even breathing.

“Grunkle Stan, that’s-” the boy started

“-the _Author_ of the Journals-” the blonde girl continued

“-and he’s your _brother?!”_ they finished together, before they started babbling on separate tangents, shaking the Journals and waving their hands in the air.

The child that had sent Ford flying grabbed onto Stanley’s arm, hanging off of it.  “Grunkle Stan, why’d that guy call you Stanley?  Your name is _Stanford.”_ Her voice boomed over everyone else.

Ford scowled and stood.  He opened his mouth to berate his brother, but thought better of it.  His words would no doubt be drowned out by the children’s cacophony.  A shrill whistle cut through the cavern, echoing loudly enough that Ford and everyone else clapped their hands over their ears.

“Thank you, Wendy.”  Stanley said after the ringing died down.

“Yeah, no problem.”  The red head, Wendy apparently, said.  “Now, can _someone_ explain what’s going?”

“That is a shapeshifter!”  The smallest girl, the one with the large backpack- how was she even standing up while wearing that?-  squeaked.  “He has come to replace Grunkle Stan and lead an invasion force to conquer Gravity Falls, and then the world!”

“Uh, what?”  Stanley blinked in confusion.

“Oh, like in that movie last week!”  The little boy said, his face lighting up with excitement.  “With the cows that got their brains sucked out through their noses!”  He stopped smiling when he noticed Wendy giving him a distressed look.

Stan turned and leveled a long suffering glare at her.  “You’ve been sneaking PG-13 movies in again, haven’t you?”

“No…”

“We’ll talk about this later.”  Stanley said, gaze bouncing back and forth between all the children.  “Now, I know that all of this is kinda nuts, but I promise, there is a perfectly logical explaina-Candy, no!”

“Death to the shapeshifter!”  The little girl charged toward Ford waving a small device in one hand that sparked menacingly.

Stanley grabbed the girls backpack and lifted both it and her into the air.  “Candy, sweetie, can ya give me that…whatever it is you’ve got there?”  His voice had a patient strain in it, one that made Ford think of their mother more than a little bit.

“But the shapeshifter!  It must be destroyed!”  She kicked her legs.

Stan pulled the girl closer to his chest, ignoring her dangerous-looking device, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.  “Candy he is _not_ a shapeshifter, he’s my twin.  Like how Dipper and Mable are twins.”

The little brunette girl gave an excited squeal and launched herself at Ford.  He tensed as her tiny arms wrapped around his knees in a tight hug.  “Hi!!!  I’m Mable! I’m eight years old and I have a pig and the coolest family in the world and you’re my grunkle like Grunkle Stan is but you’ve got a name that isn’t Stan so you’re parta my awesome family and it’s so great to meet you!  Hey d’you like pigs cause I love pigs did I tell you I have a pig his name is Waddles and he’s the best but not as the best as Dipper or Paz or Soos or Wendy or-”

“Okay, that’s enough pumpkin.”  Stanley and the children had moved closer to Ford, and the gopher-man was gently prying Mable off of him.  “He’s had a long day.  We all have.  There’ll be time for introductions later.”

“Stan,” Ford said, trying to regain some control of the situation.  “Are there any security breaches? Does  _anyone else_  know about this portal?”

“No, just us.”  Stan said.  There was a brief pause.  “Also maybe the entire US government.”

“The _what?_ ” Ford snapped.

“Calm down, it’s not that bad.”  Stan said.

“Not that _bad?!”_ He took an angry step towards Stan, but stopped when Candy swung the little homemade taser at him.

“Yeah, we can take care of the agents, no problem!”  The blonde girl said.  “Candy, ya got that weird thing we found the other week?  Maybe we could use that!””

“Of course!”  She started digging in her backpack and pulled out a strange device that Ford recognized.  A weird looking gun with a blue light bulb instead of a barrel.  “But I do not know what to do with it.”

“I don't know how you got a hold of one of these but, this is perfect!”  Ford snatched the gun out of her hands and ran into the lab with Stan and the kids following close behind. “If I can just amplify the signal to a radio headset frequency...there.  Now everyone PLUG YOUR EARS! GET DOWN! NOW!”

After using the gun and going upstairs to deal with the agents, Ford found himself surrounded by children on the porch.

“So,” Wendy said, “you’ve got a _lot_ of explaining to do old man.”  She elbowed Stanley lightly in the side.

“I agree with the young lady Stanley.”  Ford finally spoke up.  “I am thoroughly confused by everything that just happened, and I demand to know what the hell is-”

“BAD WOOORD!”  The little girl named Mable screamed again, but Stanley scooped her up with his free arm and blew a raspberry against her cheek, cutting off her second tired and sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Ford, if ya cuss in front’a any of my kids again I’ll let Grenda take ya down again, and Wendy’ll help.”  Stanley threatened.  The menace was lessened by the fact that one of Mabel’s hands was pushing against his cheek, but Candy was still waving her taser in Ford’s direction, which was more than enough to keep him on guard.

“Ah, of course.”  On a spur of the moment feeling Ford bent so he was eye level with Mabel.  “I apologize for my language, young lady.”

Mabel gave him a scrutinizing look, before her bright smile came back.  “Okie dokie I forgive you!”  She spat into a tiny hand and held it out, almost popping Ford in the nose.  It took the man a moment to realize she was looking for him to reciprocate the gesture.

After a moments hesitation, Ford held his hand up to his face and pretended to spit into his palm and grasped Mabel’s hand in his.  He was struck by just how small her hand was in his.

“Woah!  Six-fingered handshake!”  Mabel squeaked, and a spike of panic stabbed into Fords heart for a moment.  “That’s a whole finger friendlier than normal!”

He relaxed at the girls enthusiasm.  “I like this kid.”  Ford laughed.  “She’s weird.”

“H-hey!  I’m weird too!”  The boy, Dipper more than likely, piped up.

“Yeah, but I’m weirder than you are Dip.”  The blonde girl elbowed him lightly, then crowded closer to Ford.

“Nuh-uh, no you’re not Paz!”  Dipper came closer as well, shoving Paz gently in the shoulder.  Both of the kids looked up at Ford with a surprising amount of admiration for someone they had just met.  One of them was standing on his toes.

“Hey you two,” Wendy stepped forward and grabbed both of the children by the backs of their jackets, pulling them away from Ford.  “Why don’t we _not_ stand on top of the smelly man with the _really big gun,_ okay?”

The two kids complained loudly, but this time Stanley was the one to intervene.  “Kids, right now everyone’s gonna get ready fer bed, and then-” he halted, pursing his lips briefly, “I’ll tell ya everything.  I promise.”

There was a chorus of reluctant agreement as Stan herded all of the kids inside.  Ford trailed behind, and his attention was wrenched away from his brother by the fact that there was a _gift shop in his house._ “Stanley,” he growled lowly.  “What is all of _this?”_

“Uh, well,” Stanley rubbed the back of his neck, ardently avoiding making eye contact with brother by watching all of the kids run upstairs.  “This is…a part of a _very_ long story.  Do ya wanna shower while we wait for the kids?  Cause Wendy wasn’t kidding when she said ya smelled.”

A small part of Ford felt offended by that remark, but since he didn’t exactly remember when the last time he showered was, he could understand where they were coming from.  “Very well.”

Ford followed his brother through the first floor, watching as Stanley deftly navigated through piles of toys and loose shoes.  He wasted no time in the downstairs bathroom, stripping and scrubbing the sweat and grime off of him.  When he stepped out he was mildly peeved to find that his clothes had been replaced.  Scowling, Ford changed into worn sweatpants with frayed cuffs, a dark red sweater with the words _MAN ‘O’ MYSTERY_ on the front, and a pair of sock knitted with neon rainbow yarn.  The sweater was a bit too large in the shoulders, and in the stomach especially, but both it and the socks were incredibly soft.

He padded out into the hall and immediately felt a sharp pain jab into the bottom of his foot.  Ford was barely able to bite down on a curse as he pulled back, catching sight of brightly colored plastic bricks spread out across the floor.  Grumbling, Ford worked his way through the veritable minefield the little things made up, still managing to step on three more of the offending bricks.

“Ahh!  Second Grunkle!  _HIII!”_ Mabel barreled down the hall in a nightgown and socks that were just as brightly colored as the ones Ford had on.  The small girl crashed into him, wrapping her arms tightly around him in yet another hug.  With a small chuckle Ford returned the hug, ruffling Mabel’s loose hanging, slightly damp hair.

“Hello Mabel.”

She grabbed one of his hands and dragged him down the hall.  “C’mon!  Family meeting, family meeting!”  Ford soon found himself in the living room, sitting on a lumpy yellow couch wedged between Dipper and Paz with Mabel sitting in his lap.  Both of the pajama clad kids flanking him held a journal, and Dipper was rapidly clicking a pen.  Ford jumped as Wendy vaulted over the back of the couch, making the whole thing groan.

“What did that pen ever do to you, Dipping Sauce?”  The lanky girl rested her elbow on top of the younger boys head, pushing his tangled curls into his eyes.  He squeaked, pushing at her as she laughed.  The struggling children tipped sideways onto Ford, and Mabel laughed and joined in the playful wrestling.  Soon Soos came in and sat down on the floor next to an armchair.  Not long after, Grenda came barreling into the room with Candy riding on her shoulders, backpack and all. 

Candy started to play with the little plastic bricks that had gained Fords ire, glaring up at him.  Grenda however jumped and landed on the couch, pulling all of the kids but Paz off of the couch and onto the floor in a writhing, giggling pile.  Ford noticed that everyone was wearing knit rainbow socks for some reason.

“Alright, everybody here?  Everybody in their p.j.s?”  Stan came into the room wearing a wife beater and striped boxer shorts and settled into the armchair.  Mabel launched herself through the air and onto his lap.  The kids all settled down, climbing back onto the couch or, in Wendy’s case, hopping up to perch on the back of Stan’s chair.  Ford found himself squished on the couch with four children.

“Yep, everyone’s ready for you to tell us your entire life story Grunkle Stan!”  Mabel piped up, craning her head back to look at him.

“Heh.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, it’s not just my story pumpkin.  It’s Ford’s too.”

“Indeed.”  Ford said, shifting slightly on the couch.  Candy was practically sitting on his lap, brandishing a battle-axe made of the plastic bricks and just staring up at Ford like a hawk eyeing a mouse.  It was unsettling to say the least.  “But perhaps you should start.  You’re a far better storyteller than me.”

A flash of emotion crossed Stanley’s face.  “Y-yeah.  Well, um, it all started a lifetime ago…nineteen sixty something…Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey…”

* * *

 

“…By day I was Stanford Pines: Mr. Mystery!  But by night I was down in the basement, trying to bring the real Stanford back.  I couldn't risk anyone learning the truth and sabotaging my mission, so I lied to everyone: the town, my parents, Shermy, even you kids.”  Stanley finished with a sad sigh.  All of the kids but Candy had migrated over to Stanley’s chair, haphazardly resting on his lap or the arms of his chair.  Candy was still sitting close to Ford, apparently guarding everyone else from him.

“So this whole time, you’ve been working to save your brother?”  Dipper said in a small, awestruck voice.

“That is soooo sweet Grunkle Stan!”  Grenda squealed (well, she came as close as she could to squealing) from where she was perched on Stanley’s shoulder.

“Y-yeah!”  Mabel gave a large yawn and curled up in Stanley lap, resting her head on Dippers shoulder.  “You learned math…so you could save your twin.  That’s amazing!”

“Heh, thanks kids.”  Stanley gave a sheepish chuckle, before giving a small shake of his head.  “But it is _way_ past everyone’s bedtime.”

A chorus of complaints rose up from the children, but they were sleepy, punctuated by yawns.  Stanley stood, holding Mabel and Paz in his arms, and Grenda grabbed onto his ears to stay on his shoulders.  Wendy slid off the back of the chair, and Dipper grabbed onto her shoulders, holding on for a piggy-back ride.  Soos came over to the couch and picked Candy up, despite her protests.

“Eh, if ya wanna wait, I’ll get ya some blankets and pillows after I put the kids down.”  Stan said over his shoulder, before leading the way upstairs.  Ford watched everyone retreat upstairs, and realized that he was tensed up, coiled like a spring.  He forced himself to relax; he was in his home dimension, and the biggest threats he had encountered were his brother and the children he seemed to be babysitting.  Ford had to wonder what parent would be crazy enough to trust his brother to take care of their children.  Stanley had said that Dipper and Mabel were Shermy’s grandkids, but he hadn’t said who any of the other children’s families were.  Or why Soos, who was more than likely an adult, seemed to be one of Stan’s charges.  But those questions could wait.

Ford paced the living room.  Now that he had a moment to himself, he could finally gather his thoughts, think about what to do about Cipher.  He had been gathering as much information about the demon as he could, and he had finally begun to devise a plan to destroy the yellow menace once and for all.  But now, he was back in his home dimension.  After more than twenty-five years traveling the multiverse, he had long since resigned himself to never stepping foot there again.

And now, Ford was home.  But he couldn’t build the Quantum Destabilizer with the limited technology in this dimension.  And even if he could build the weapon, now the only way he could get to the Nightmare Realm was through the Portal that Bill had had him build.  Ford couldn’t use that.  He had to dismantle it as soon as possible.  He was supposed to defeat Bill; it was his destiny, told to him by the oracle that saved his life years ago.  How was he supposed to do that now that Stanley had brought him back here?

“Alright Sixer.”  Stan’s voice made Ford jump.  “I got-”

“ _Don’t call me that.”_ Ford snapped, his whole body tense.

Stanley gave him a startled look, gapping like a goldfish before he snapped his mouth shut, “Oh.  Well, I brought ya these.”  He held out a few knit blankets and a pillow made of brightly colored fabric with cartoon unicorns.  “You can sleep on the couch down here tonight.”

Ford wrinkled his nose at the pillow, but accepted it. “Hm.  I believe my old study would serve as a better temporary bedroom than the couch.”  He went down the hall and heard Stanley following him, starting to say something, but both men stopped when they caught sight of a full body mirror at the end of the hall.

“Look at us.”  Stan said, “When did we become old men?

“You look like Dad.”  Ford gave his brother a lopsided, teasing grin.

“Ugh, don't _say_ that.”  Stanley shuddered, and the two shared a laugh.

“Okay, Stanley, here's the deal.”  Ford said, attitude becoming more somber, “You can stay here tonight to finish watching the kids. I'll head down into the basement to start containing any remaining damage. But when the kids are all back at their homes, you give me my house back, you give me my _name_ back, and this Mystery Shack junk is over forever. You got it?”  He glanced back over at his brother, expecting to see agreement on his face, and hopefully some remorse.  Instead, all Ford was met with was a look of pure rage that he was surprised didn’t physically burn him.

“Stanford,” Stanley said, his voice a low growl, “do you pay attention to _anything?”_

“Wha-?”

“Those _kids,”_ he spat, “don’t have anywhere else to go.  They _live here_ Ford.”

Ford was shocked.  “ _Live_ here?  What?”

“Yes genius, this place is the only home my kids have!”  Stan kept his voice low, but he waved his hands around in agitation.  Ford looked around and finally caught sight of the pictures that lined the hallway around them.  They were all full of pictures of the kids, some with them as young children or infants, going on until they looked the same as they did that day.  Ford was surprised the walls weren’t pulled down by the weight of all of the photos.

“I-didn’t know.”  Ford stammered, gaping.

Stan gave a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Yeah, I could tell.  Look, just-” He waved his hand absently before turning towards the stairs.  “go ta bed, an’ we’ll talk ‘r whatever tomorrow.”  He climbed the stairs without looking back.

It took Ford a moment to start moving down the hall to his old study.  He was trying to wrap his head around, well, _everything_ when he opened the door and found a dozen wax figures were piled into the study.  He went back into the living room and set the pillow and blankets on the couch and then went back down into the basement.  Ford decided the best thing to do would be to think about everything while working on containing anything that was left behind by the portal.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a nutty little au I came up with for the sake of writing indulgent fluff.


End file.
